Business Suit Gundam Wing
by Nike Megami
Summary: An interesting take on Gundam Wing...in the world of big business. Contains some shonen ai and slight yaoi references, and some mild cursing. Now reformatted for ease of perusal! Please R&R! ^-^


NO NEED FOR CORPORATE MONOPOLIES: BUSINESS SUIT GUNDAM WING  
by Nike Megami  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, or the characters, or anything related to Gundam Wing except some models and other paraphenalia I bought or received. All rights go to Hajime Yadate, Yoshiyuki Tomino (or whatever his name is), Studio Sunrise, and all them.  
  
As with many of my crazy fic ideas, I was sitting around one day minding my own business when suddenly I was struck with this thought: What if instead of being called Mobile Suit GundamW, it was Business Suit GundamW, and the boys were actually dot-com entrepreneurs or something fighting off the evil mega-corporation OZ? And then, what would Wing look like in a business suit...? Anyway, I decided to write the story because the idea was too crazy to pass up.  
  
  
  
Heero Yuy, the top business professional in all of Japan, drummed his fingers across his desk and frowned at his secretary.  
Are you absolutely sure it can't wait, Ms. Dorlian? I have a ton of paperwork to go through. He pointed at his In box, or rather at the stack of papers that put the Leaning Tower of Pisa to shame.  
Yes, sir. Mr. J wishes to speak with you immediately. And call me Relena, please, sir. She giggled and bounced back to her desk in the other office.  
Heero picked up the phone on his desk and listened as Mr. J warned him yet again of the OZ company and to refuse all their offers of merging.  
Yes, I know, I know. You've only been telling me for the past week to beware OZ. Tell me something new.  
Just this morning OZ took over the two most villainous companies in the world, Microsoft and Nestlé. Now that OZ has expanded into food, I suggest you find a company of your own to merge with.  
But J, that's exactly what we're trying not to do! Small businesses like mine are trying to prove that individuals can stand in the face of mass merging!  
Perhaps you'd be more successful if you didn't constantly blow up your entire headquarters and rebuild in a new location every time. The only things you've ever kept for more than a month are your secretary and your janitor Pargan. Falsified terrorist attacks don't cut it, Heero.  
Rrr...well, what would you suggest?  
That Maxwell guy. You two've been business partners for years. Your merging was inevitable anyway, and once it happens people won't suspect a thing.  
J! We're just partners in trade! I never thought once about merging with his company!  
Perhaps you should start thinking about it, because he should be there any minute now. Click.  
J! J!!! Heero put down the phone and slouched. From outside his twenty-story complex he heard the screeching of rubber tires on asphalt and sighed. There could be only one person as lousy a driver in Tokyo, so it seemed Mr. J was right.  
Maxwell, the young CEO of an international internet provider, stumbled into Heero's office with his hair messed up and his breathing ragged. Damn, I'll never get used to driving in Tokyo, he muttered. Can you believe I came all the way here driving on the wrong side of the road before I even realized it?  
Yes, I can. Sit down, Maxwell. Heero sighed again.  
Aw, come on, just call me Duo! Everybody calls me Duo!  
Yes, Maxwell. However, in my office we deal with each other on a professional basis.  
Duo threw his hands in the air and sighed. Right, right, Mr. Yuy. He sat down in a chair and pulled it up to Heero's desk.  
So, uh, Mr. G called me this morning and said J would be talking to you about us merging. Duo flashed his classic American grin.  
He said that only because he wants to use us as pawns against OZ.  
Well, it's not an entirely bad idea. OZ either crushes small companies or assimilates them completely. Hell, I don't think there are any human beings in OZ! Duo pounded the desk for emphasis.  
Of course there are human beings in it, Maxwell! How else do you think they would get off taking over like this? Haven't you heard of Treize Khushrenada?!  
Gasp! Isn't he an international terrorist??  
Or so I've heard.  
He must be stopped. I will not let him take over America!!  
Uh, Maxwell, he's already got Microsoft and Nestlé.  
Who cares about them?! They were evil to begin with.  
Secretary Relena stuck her head in the door. Excuse me, sirs. Is everything all right? I heard lots of shouting.  
Everything's fine, Relena. We're just discussing our partnership and merging and stuff.  
Relena quirked one eyebrow. Would you like me to schedule a business lunch for the two of you?  
Yeah, that'd be great! Duo replied.  
Heero shoved Duo aside and retorted, My office, Maxwell. Yes, Ms. Dorlian, make a reservation at Fontaine en Cristal for noon.  
Right away, Heer—I mean, Mr. Yuy. She stepped back out to her office.  
Honestly, Heero, she's been lookin' at you for years! Duo proclaimed, putting his feet up on Heero's desk. Why don't you do something nice for her? Like ask her out after business hours?  
For one, I have absolutely no romantic interest in that girl. The only reason she's still working for me is because she's a damn good secretary. Heero shoved Duo's feet off the desk. For another, I have a strict policy against dating coworkers, so if I broke the rules, people would lose faith in my company.  
So, how are sales going?  
Pretty good, though things should be getting rough now that OZ has Windows.  
My server's just as good as ever. Everyone's signing up for MaxwellLynx.com! My business couldn't be doing any better.  
That's what you think. Hey, Ms. Dorlian!  
Yes, Mr. Yuy?  
Find me this morning's newspaper. I haven't read it yet.  
Right away, Mr. Yuy. Relena left and returned a while later with a thick copy of the Wall Street Journal.  
All right, let's see this... Heero unfolded the newspaper and gasped. Maxwell, have you heard of the Barton Foundation?  
Have I? They're only the world's largest producer of gourmet foods and own the largest Italian restaurant chain in America. I must say, they make some damn good spaghetti.  
Barton's merged with the Winner Bank Conglomerate.  
Duo, who'd been busy sipping his coffee, spat it out and wiped his face on his sleeve. You're kidding me!  
I'm kidding around as much as you act professional. Says here that the CEO of the Winner Bank Conglomerate, Quatre Raberba Winner, fell in love with the CEO of the Barton Foundation and that's why they merged.  
Hot damn... Duo whistled. That's one hell of a lucky Barton gal.  
Lucky Barton guy, Maxwell. Didn't you know Trowa Barton is the heir of the Barton family?  
I heard he isn't really their child. Someone shot the real Trowa Barton, and they adopted this guy per suggestion of a mysterious Mr. S. Of course, one always hears rumors in Chicago of people being shot.  
Heero glanced at his watch. Perhaps we should be going to lunch now. Traffic gets hectic around noon.  
How about you drive? Duo suggested.  
I was planning to, Heero replied as he pulled on his jacket. Ms. Dorlian, did you make the reservation?  
Yes, sir. They should be expecting you. She smiled and began filling out the forms stacked on her desk.  
Maxwell, let's go. Heero and Duo walked down the stairs and out towards Heero's Mercedes.  
I don't understand it, though, Duo commented. Isn't it illegal for two different types of companies to merge? I mean, Winner's a bank, and Barton's in food.  
Why don't you read the rest of the article, then? Heero tossed the Wall Street into Duo's lap and sat down behind the wheel. As they drove down the road, Duo read the article out loud.  
With all the news of OZ's merging with companies around the world, one may ignore those other businesses not yet part of the supergiant headed by Khushrenada. However, just last night, the world's biggest merge—since OZ came into being—took place between the Barton Foundation, well-known for its fine Mediterranean foods and donations to charities, and the Winner Bank Conglomerate, quite possibly the world's friendliest bank. A representative of the Winner Bank reports that the merge took place because of the CEO's affections for the CEO of the Barton Foundation. Sources say that this merge is a match made in heaven, forming the world's largest banking firm and allowing for the Bartons to make more donations to charity.'  
Many people associate the Barton Foundation with its fine foods and extravagant restaurants, but often forget that it started as a family-owned bank and securities business.' That explains how they were able to make it legal.  
Go on, Maxwell. I'd like to hear the rest of the story.  
The Bartons soon realized that they could make a bigger difference if they expanded, and they did by using Mrs. Barton's recipes to found Lady Barton's Feast Hall, the first of the widely-popular restaurant chain. Their influence spread slowly around the world, and its roots as a bank were all but forgotten. That is, by everyone but the CEO of Winner Bank, Quatre R. Winner. In the most daring move since OZ first started its campaign of global market domination, Winner, perhaps seeking to help out the Barton charities, met with CEO Trowa Barton and closed the deal in record time. Last night's five-minute merger is perhaps the fastest any company has ever taken over another, though it is not known which company is actually in control of the new Winner Barton Foundation.'  
Five minutes?! Heero spat. You'd think they were getting engaged or something.  
From the looks of it, maybe they are. Duo folded up the Wall Street Journal and stuck it in the glove compartment of Heero's car. I wouldn't be at all surprised.  
Heero pulled into the parking garage of Fontaine en Cristal, parked the car, and got out with Duo close behind. The two entered the restaurant with their heads high and their demeanors cool.  
  
Meanwhile, across the world in Milan, Trowa put down the phone in his office and sighed, glancing at his new partner. Quatre, are you sure this is a good idea?  
Of course it is! I'll pay for the reception, and—  
I'm not talking about the wedding, I'm talking about our business! Some OZzie just called and threatened me. Perhaps we shouldn't have done this after all...  
You've been threatened!? Quatre rose to his feet, flaming with rage. I'll call out my forty-four bodyguards! They'll protect you at all costs!  
Quatre, why do you have forty-four bodyguards...? Trowa sighed and ran his hands over his slicked-back hair.  
Well, when I ran the ad, they all applied, and I couldn't turn down any one of them. At least I can afford it. Quatre smiled, melting Trowa's icy fears.  
I suppose you're right...we'll just have to travel less often and keep a low profile. I'll have my secretary arrange for a secret wedding in Hawaii. Yo, Catherine!  
Oh...that's so romantic... Quatre inhaled and exhaled deeply, passionately daydreaming of golden sunsets with his fiancé.  
A bubbly young woman with fluffy curly hair poked her head in the door. Yes, brother dear?  
Trowa hissed, a moment too late.  
She's your sister? Quatre hissed.  
Trowa sighed. Long story. I'll tell you later. Catherine, call on the private line to Hawaii. See if you can book a hotel room or something for a week in July for us.  
Aw, is this for your wedding? That's so sweet of you!  
Isn't it, though? Quatre added.  
Yes it is!  
Trowa sighed yet again. Catherine, would you please just do it? And make sure absolutely NO ONE ELSE finds out. Understood?  
Catherine replied, and she hopped back out the door.  
Now then, Quatre, down to business... Trowa picked up a manila folder of files on his desk, put on a pair of glasses, and looked up at Quatre. He gave a long, drawn-out sigh and asked, Why are you looking at me like that? We've got deals to work out. He smacked the folder with the back of his hand.  
Quatre, smiling impishly, locked the door and advanced slowly towards the desk. Those glasses aren't natural for you...Let me take them off.  
Quatre, we have important things to take care of at the moment. Would you please focus on—  
Trowa's chair fell backwards and hit the floor as Quatre ravenously pounced on him, and soon their clothes lay scattered about the floor and hanging from various fixtures in the office.  
  
Back in Tokyo, Heero rolled his eyes as Duo downed his fifth glass of wine and called the waitress for another.  
I swear, this is the last time I'm taking you to a restaurant that has free refills of wine, Maxwell. You are so immature.  
Hey, you let me drink yo's! Duo retorted, swaying a bit in his seat. No point wastin' good wine! Hey, thanks, waitress. He tossed the girl a few bills and sighed, sipping his new glass. So, what did we come here to talk about anyway?  
That's what I've been trying to remind you of, except you keep ignoring me and cat-calling the waitresses.  
Well, dey pretty! Haven'tchoo ever taken th' time to look at em? Dey fine legs, and dey fine booties, and dey—  
Maxwell, we are here to discuss the possibility of our companies merging! Heero growled through gritted teeth.  
Okay. Let's merge right now. Duo reached across the table to hug Heero, who backed away and stood up to leave.  
You're too drunk to even talk to right now, much less negotiate with. Come, I'll take you back to your hotel room so you can sober up.  
Oh, so you're gonna skip the foreplay and get right to the matter? Hell yeah! Duo stood up and immediately fell over unconscious. Heero had to drag him out to the car and dig around in his pockets to find the address of his hotel and the key to his room. Once he found those, he peeled out of the parking lot and off towards the hotel.  
Half an hour later, Heero returned to his office extremely embarassed and quite upset.  
Mr. Yuy, Relena said as he stormed through her office, you have a call from Mr. J. He wants to know how the deal is working with Mr. Maxwell.  
Tell him to take his phone and shove it up his ass, Heero curtly replied. Relena gasped, and he apologized before slamming the door to his office. He threw off his jacket, sat down in his chair, and rubbed his head.  
What else could possibly go wrong? he wondered, just seconds before the phone rang. Grumbling he picked it up and shouted,   
Now, now, Heero, Mr. J calmly stated. Don't get worked up just because the deal didn't work out. Once Maxwell wakes up you'll get your chance.  
How did you know? Did you trace me?  
We have you under our surveillance all the time, young one. But don't worry; OZ knows nothing of what's going on between us.  
Who's we? I thought it was just you. If you don't tell me, I'll cancel the negotiations.  
Do that, and your computers will bomb. They're already heading for the red because of OZ's actions this morning.  
What? You have to be kidding me. Heero stood, a look of panic on his face.  
It's the truth. Just turn on the news if you don't believe me.  
Heero switched on the TV and watched the international stocks report drift across the screen. All the companies under OZ control had risen, while all those not affiliated, including his own Wing computers, had plunged drastically.  
My God... Heero almost dropped the phone.  
You see now just how futile it is to stand alone against OZ. Close that deal with Maxwell as soon as possible, Heero, for the sake of the world.  
I'll go wake him up now if I have to! Heero slammed down the phone onto the receiver, picked up his jacket, and stormed out past Relena again.  
Leaving early, Mr. Yuy? she asked.  
No shit, Sherlock. Heero slammed the door and wandered down the halls to the main door and then outside to his car.  
  
Mr. J, slightly shocked at Heero's sudden absence, put down the phone slowly and fingered his grizzly beard.  
So what did he have to say? inquired Mr. G, a short old man with a long nose.  
He'll do anything to make that deal with Duo, even if it means waking him into a premature hangover.  
Mr. S, whose failed plastic surgery led to his wearing of a fake nose, commented, That isn't a good idea, considering Americans are extremely violent when they're drunk.  
On the other hand, the short, jolly Mr. H interjected, Quatre and Trowa are doing suprisingly well together. I've heard that they're going to tie the knot as a couple as well as in business.  
Well, isn't that sweet, Mr. J remarked. D, how is your agent? He looked up at a tall, relatively fit aging man.  
Wufei? Heh. He needs no help. This afternoon he blew up OZ's Lake Victoria deal single-handedly. I have high hopes in this boy.  
But for our operation to be a success, we must have all our agents working together. And the best way to accomplish that is under the guise of a mass merger.  
What would they call it? G mused, thoughtfully fingering his chin. They're supposed to be working together, so we can't just group them all under Maxwell or Barton or the like.  
Don't worry about it, G, J responded. I've already decided upon their new corporation. It shall be called Operation Meteor; they will be the meteor that comes crashing down on OZ and destroys it.  
The other old men clapped their hands. Jolly good, J! H cheered. How's about a round of drinks and a toast to Operation Meteor?  
The old men all agreed, and soon they were as jolly and drunk as Duo had been about an hour ago.  
  
Duo winced and piled more pillows over his aching head as the knocking on his hotel door persisted. He should have realized it was a dumb idea to get drunk during a business lunch, but what was he supposed to do? Chicago restaurants never had free refills of wine, only free refills of Coke, which the young internet executive didn't like much anyway. Finally, after five minutes of knocking, he determined the pest wouldn't go away unless he did something about it, so he flung the pillows and sheets onto the floor, pulled on some pants, and violently swung the door open.  
Heero stood there, in his crisp business suit, staring in shock at Duo. Uh, Maxwell, if you would please go get dressed, we must reconsider the deal. NOW.  
Fuck off. He started to close the door, but Heero stuck a foot between the door and the frame and stepped all the way in.  
Come on, Duo. Don't make me dress you myself.  
Go right ahead, I don't give a fucking shit. I was gonna try to sleep off my hangover, ya know... He slumped onto the bed and grumbled quite profanely.  
Heero ignored Duo's ramblings and found a clean shirt for him. Here, put this on.  
Duo pulled the sleeve over his right arm and suddenly stopped. Hey, didn't you just call me Duo?  
Heh. I might as well, seeing as how we're gonna be merging soon.  
Gee, that was fast. Duo pulled on the other sleeve and then buttoned the shirt. He took a black jacket from Heero's hand and put it on quickly, then tied his shoes and followed him out the door.  
Now what? You got any painkillers?  
Heero silently handed him a bottle of Advil and pressed the down button on the elevator. Once the lift arrived, an obviously suspicious person clad in a trenchcoat and derby stepped off, handing Duo a small piece of paper. Duo, completely ignoring everything around him, was about to eat the paper instead of the pills until Heero reached out and snatched it.  
Hey! What the— Duo peered over Heero's shoulder at the note.  
  
MEET AT THE HILTON IN DALLAS TOMORROW AT TWO.  
  
What the hell does that mean? Who's it from?  
I don't know, Heero replied. We could assume it's from the old men, and go to the meeting, or we could assume it's from OZ and blow the place up. The two stepped into the elevator, and Heero pressed a button.  
I vote for the second one, Duo remarked. G's sense of humor isn't that clever.  
Nah, let's just go. And be sure to bring protection' with us.  
Hey, I always have protection! You know how Chicago is!  
Heero rolled his eyes and sighed, They rode the elevator and took yet another ride in Heero's shiny new Mercedes.  
  
Mr. Trowa Barton, sir? Catherine politely asked at the door, knocking on it. She had found it locked, which was unusual for that particular time of day. Sir, I have a message for you!  
Trowa answered the door, his shirt half-buttoned and his glasses askew. What is it? He brushed his hair over his head.  
Sir, I just got a fax from someone named Mr. S. He wants you to go to Dallas tomorrow (wherever that is) for a meeting in the Hilton.  
Oh, Lord... Trowa sighed and smacked his forehead. That's a twelve-hour flight! He called over his shoulder, C'mon, Quatre, we gotta go pack!  
For what? Quatre asked, climbing up from behind the desk, still shirtless.  
Catherine didn't dare ask any questions. She replied, You two need to go to Dallas for a meeting tomorrow.  
Dallas? In Texas?? Quatre almost fainted. It's so hot there, and it's ugly, and dry, and polluted...  
It's okay, dear, I'll be sure to bring a gas mask for you. Trowa buttoned his shirt the rest of the way and told Catherine to finish the rest of the paperwork, seeing as how he'd never had the chance to start. He waited for Quatre to get dressed and then dragged him out the door to his strech limo. Once inside the cool, leather-upholstered interior, Trowa opened up a laptop and began working on something, something which interested Quatre very much.  
What are you doing? the innocent blonde asked.  
Oh, I'm working with a munitions dealer. He's the one who supplies us for security, you know.  
Who is he? Would I know his name?  
I don't think so. He's a little-known Chinese guy whose fireworks and ammo are top of the line. His company is Heavenly Dragon Fire and Gunpowder Works, though most call it ShenLong.  
ShenLong?! Don't they work with the mafia?  
Trowa nodded. Quatre's eyes widened with fear and began to moisten.  
Does that mean...you're with the mafia?  
Trowa smiled. They're the best bodyguards money can buy, my dear.  
Quatre pouted. I thought you were a good man, Trowa.  
I am a good man. Sometimes you gotta do dirty things to be a good person, however. It doesn't make you any less of a good person.  
Oh, Trowa... Quatre curled up next to Trowa and smiled when he was hugged. The ride to Quatre's hotel room was rather boring, and he soon found himself drifting to sleep...  
  
Chang Wufei sat in his air-conditioned office in Shanghai, watching OZ's stock waver and his own value skyrocket. Ha ha ha, they'll never defeat the Dragon of Heaven! MWA HA HA HA HA!!  
A young Chinese woman spoke on an intercom. Mr. Chang, call on line 12.  
Wufei turned off his television and picked up the phone, pressing the button for line 12.   
Young Wufei, Mr. D's mysterious voice said, you must go to Dallas tomorrow. There's a meeting scheduled there, and one of the chairs has your name on it.  
D, I have no time for foolish riddles. Wufei tapped on the desk angrily with a pencil. Is this a threat?  
No, no, no. Just do as I say, and all will be well. The phone line died.  
Damn, he's always confusing me. Wufei put down the phone and sighed. Might as well go. He opened the top drawer of his desk, tucked a few pistols into his Armanis, and left the office.  
Mr. Chang? Where are you going? the secretary asked. There's still another hour until we close.  
I have important business to attend to, Meiran. If anyone calls, take a message.  
All right, sir. She watched him walk out the door and briefly wondered if the People's Republic of Police would catch him en route, and then feverishly hoped they wouldn't. As the afternoon dragged on, she wondered more and more what he was really up to.  
  
The next day's sun found Duo and Heero at the Hilton hotel, having followed another mysterious trenchcoat-wearer through the mazes of corridors to the doors of a huge conference room. Heero, having reminded Duo of their mission, was glad that Duo hadn't drunk anything last night, as was the same.  
You know my aim is off when I've had a drink, Duo protested. Besides, anymore alcohol and I'd be sicker than a mad cow.  
Right, whatever, was Heero's response. As the two of them stood to each side of the door, wondering who could possibly be in there waiting for them, they reached for their trusty handguns.  
You ready? Heero asked in a low voice.  
Ready as I'll ever be. Duo burst through the door, followed by Heero, and whipped out his weapons. Three other doors opened at that same moment, and someone shrieked. He found himself aiming a gun at Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner, and that Chang Wufei had him at gunpoint.  
Well, well, well, Duo crooned. Haven't you got a nice gun there, China boy? He twirled his twin pistols on his index fingers and retorted, We always carry two guns in Chicago.  
Much to Duo's surprise, Trowa whipped out an entire arsenal of weaponry and replied, In the mafia, we always carry at least twenty.  
Wufei glanced at Trowa and added, Thanks to me.  
Duo put his guns down on the table and whistled. Okay, I surrender! You win.  
Heero put away his gun as well. So, Barton and Winner, I see you're just as paranoid as the rest of us about OZ. Perhaps, then, we shouldn't be enemies.  
But you pointed a gun at me! Quatre squealed. How does that make you anything but a bad person?  
Trowa rolled his eyes. I already told you, Quatre, that sometimes good people have to do bad things to get done what needs to be done! He glanced at the others, still locked and loaded, and continued, What brings you here?  
Some old men summoned us, Duo casually answered, leaning on a chair.  
That's strange, old men summoned us too... Quatre suddenly had a flash of realization. That must mean they want us to work together!  
Brilliant, Einstein, Wufei sneered sarcastically. How can any CEO be so dense?  
Trowa snapped. He's not dense, he's just a little too innocent.  
Heero noticed a system of TVs hanging around the room. Just as he expected, Mr. J's head appeared on each one of them and began speaking.  
Young men, times are getting rough for your businesses. Just five minutes ago, OZ merged with AOL, and Maxwell's stock value is suffering drastic plunges.  
The stock readings flashed onscreen, and Duo nearly pulled out his hair.  
Oh GOD!! How can they do that to me!!?  
J's head appeared again. You five young men are gathered here for an issue of great importance. In order for someone to stand against OZ, there needs to be a company as large and powerful as the evil corporate giant. If you five should come together under the name Operation Meteor, OZ will surely fall.  
Wait a minute! Wufei shouted. You expect me to give my company to these incompetent fools?!  
They are not incompetent, young Wufei, nor are they fools. And you will not be giving your company to anyone. You will still have control over your own businesses, but will be working together with the others to accomplish what no other has dared before.  
Count me in! Duo grinned. Heero & I are already together!  
As are we, Quatre added, embracing Trowa's arm.  
Wufei growled. But...I can do it on my own! You saw how I blew up Lake Victoria!  
That was clever, sending them fireworks instead of ammunition. But I'm warning you, if you wait any longer your company will suffer... J faded out again, and the screen showed the world stocks. Already ShenLong was beginning to drop, and Barton-Winner wasn't looking too hopeful either.  
C'mon, it's now or never, Quatre commanded.  
Wufei sighed, still struggling to retain his proud indivuduality, and eventually turned around. I'll do it.  
Duo jumped around, doing a little victory dance. Let's take down OZ!  
First order of business, Quatre said as he sat down in a chair, is making this official. Heero, would you please make the necessary calls?  
Heero picked up a phone and started dialing like mad.  
Trowa, you watch the stocks. Make sure OZ isn't doing anything devastating.  
Trowa opened his laptop and searched for the Wall Street homepage.  
Duo, Wufei, you and I will brainstorm how to take down OZ. The Arabian blonde gathered the two around him.  
I say we BLOW IT ALL TO SMITHEREENS!! Wufei immediately declared. DEATH TO ALL THAT IS OZ!!!  
No, that's highly unethical. You know how fast they'd sue our sorry asses? Duo retorted. We should find some way to get an agent in there to find out what they're doing, and then take the necessary actions to prevent their success!  
That's a great idea, Duo. Do you agree, Wufei? Quatre had suddenly assumed a very professional attitude, which Wufei assumed was what got him to the top of his company.  
Sure. I'll have my special agent Sally go check it out. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed an international number.  
Heero put down his phone and sighed. Okay, I've told all those who need to know about Operation Meteor. The Wall Street people said we should appear on the board in a matter of minutes.  
Trowa jumped out of his chair. Look, there we are! The others crowded around and watched the little symbols and numbers float across the screen.  
Hey, look! OZ is dropping like a fly! Duo pointed at OZ, red for the first time ever. It had already dropped a couple hunderd points since OpMet first showed up. OpMet, on the other hand, was rising as if the sky was no limit.  
Good job, guys! They all high-fived each other and Quatre ordered a round of drinks. For the first time in his life, Heero had a reason to drink more than one glass of champagne at one time.  
  
Far, far away, Treize Khushrenada, the international businessman of crime and president of OZ, sat brooding at his desk and watching the rosy incense burn. He brushed his hair back and sighed; something didn't seem right today. He'd called all his agents, who assured him everything was all right. But he doubted that, which wasn't a bad idea because he'd hired them to make him feel good. What if there is someone out there who will try to stop me? he thought. Suddenly he had the urge to call in his CEO Une.  
Before he pressed the button, Une herself walked in. Your Excellency, I have surprising news.  
What is it? He only hoped his suspicions wouldn't be proved.  
Our value in the international stock market is dropping rapidly, sir, and...there's a new company that seems to be doing better than we ever could.  
What is the name of this company?  
I'm not sure...I think it's Operation Meteor or something. No clue what they make; it must be pretty damn good.  
Treize pounded his desk. Curse those old men, he thought. Just because I proved em wrong...just because they said I couldn't do it and then I did...  
Your Excellency? Are you all right? Une placed her hands on his fist, a look of worried concern on her face.  
I'll be fine, Une. Sigh. What to do...?  
Sir, I could find a way to infiltrate their company and do lethal damage.  
Treize chuckled. Yes, of course. That's a brilliant idea. Go do that. He sent her out, and she left to do her dirty work. I'll bring you down, old men...if it's the last thing I do! He burst out laughing, and the office people working in their cubicles down the hall wondered if their president had burned a little too much incense recently.  
  
Weeks passed, and Operation Meteor began responding to the threatening OZ by merging just as fast or faster with other companies. Some companies they saved from total bankruptcy, and others wanted to join only to get revenge for friends they lost. In time, Operation Meteor grew to be a vast network of ideas, products, and services beyond the founding CEOs' imaginations. The CEOs themselves took over an old building in Seattle as their main base of operations, but occasionally visited their old headquarters. One foggy, rainy day, Quatre and Trowa chilled in their bedroom suite in the Radisson hotel, awaiting a call from Heero.  
Trowa, look how many people have invested in us! Quatre cried out, pointing at the stocks and bonds report on the evening news. With that kind of money we could get married in space! He squeaked and clung to Trowa's arm.  
Trowa rolled his eyes. Yes, but what about those dreamy sunsets you wanted to see and the luxurious mud baths you wanted to take with me in Hawaii? You can't do that in space. You'd be getting married in a space suit.  
Quatre frowned. Never mind, then. Hawaii will do. He daydreamed about golden sunsets and relaxed. clutching the heavy hotel comforter to his pale, slender shoulders.  
The phone rang, and Trowa released himself from Quatre's grasp to reach for the phone. He picked it up and held it to his head, trying not to crush Quatre in the process.  
Hello, Barton speaking. Who is this?  
Duo replied, You're not gonna believe this, Trowa. You are NOT gonna believe what Heero just did! Trowa heard wild guffaws of laughter from the other end of the line. Emergency meeting, ASAP! Then Duo hung up.  
Trowa gently put the phone down and sighed.  
What is it, my big handsome tiger? Quatre purred. Was it Heero?  
Yeah. Let's get dressed. He stood up and opened his suitcase.  
Quatre pouted. Aw, but I was all ready to get undressed! Poot. Quatre dressed himself, and the two lovers left to call a taxi.  
A few minutes later Trowa and Quatre arrived, dressed in crisp, clean clothing. Duo, Heero, and Wufei lay slumped in chairs, their jackets on the floor, their laughter loud, and their sense of humility on another planet.  
Um, excuse us...We're here, Quatre said.  
Wufei regained his civilized manners and stood to greet them. Sorry about our rude welcome. One of OZ's agents tried to sabotage Heero's business, and they got blown up!  
Trowa asked. What the hell is going on?  
Heero glanced up from his laptop and replied, I've got it on video here. It's great.  
Trowa and Quatre leaned over Heero's shoulders and watched the Quicktime movie of Heero's building exploding.  
Okay...but why are there fireworks going off? Trowa didn't quite understand.  
It was about time to move out anyway.  
So, what exactly happened? Quatre asked as Duo fell over laughing again.  
Well, it all started about two hours ago...  
  
Sally hid herself in the shadows by Treize's office and listened carefully to the signals picked up by her radio. She still couldn't believe Une didn't notice the device she'd planted on her clothing. The radio came to life, and she put on her headphones to hear.  
Your Excellency, I've done some research on Operation Meteor, and one of the founding CEOs is Heero Yuy, from Wing Computers. All of Meteor's business is done with Wing's data, so if the headquarters are blown up they'll be ruined. All I ask is your permission to personally carry out the mission.  
You have my permission, Une. Take those blasted fireworks with you; we'll put them to good use. Make sure you destroy everything.  
Yes, sir! Une walked out and brushed off her shoulder. Hm, didn't think I had dandruff. She walked down the hall, completely oblivious of the spy behind her.  
Sally turned off her radio and called Wufei's pager on her cell phone. She hoped he'd get the message in time...  
Meanwhile, Wufei checked his pager and said to Heero, Looks like there's trouble heading your way, Heero.  
What's up now? Duo asked.  
Was I talking to you? Wufei snapped. Sally just notified me of OZ's plan to destroy your building.  
Heero grinned. He picked up the phone and called his office in Tokyo. Yo, Ms. Dorlian? I've got an important job for you. I need you and Pargan and the other employees to get all the important data and equipment out of the building, and then have Pargan activate the fuse...Yes, THAT fuse...Yes, of course...Absolutely. If anyone tries to come in the building, tell them it's closed and threaten to sue for trespassing. That'll be all. He hung up and grinned again.  
Duo jumped. You're not gonna self-destruct again, are you?!  
Of course I am! I'm just hoping the OZzie gets blown up in the process.  
ARE YOU MAD!? Wufei shouted.  
Quite possibly. Heero leaned back and sighed.  
YOU'RE DOING EXACTLY WHAT THEY WANTED TO DO!!  
What's wrong with that? If I beat them to it, it'll ingrain their impending failure even deeper. Don't worry; they'll know it was me.  
  
At that moment in Tokyo, Une stepped out of her car and approached the Wing building. From what she could see of the lobby, it seemed they weren't terribly busy. Just perfect... She stepped in the door and was immediately blocked by a young woman with long, light brown hair pulled back into a delicate little braid.  
Ma'am, I'm afraid you'll have to leave. We're closed now, and if you continue to be here we'll sue on grounds of trespassing.  
Can't I use the bathroom?! Une begged, pretending to have an urgent need to see a man about a dog.  
I'm sorry, but you must leave. Our lawyers never lose. The young woman tried to push her out the door.  
Une shoved her aside and ran off to find the core of the building. She found it sooner than she would have expected, and a bit too easily. The highly skilled terrorist opened her briefcases to set up the fireworks when she realized the room was empty. She stood up and looked all around her and muttered to herself, This isn't right. Where is everything? She found the secuity room, noticed no one inside, and let herself in to see the cameras.  
What the... The outside cameras revealed truckloads of people and equipment being hauled away, and another camera rested on a security box just outside the room where she was. The box display seemed to be a clock, slowly ticking away the seconds at 00:05:00.  
Une burst out of the security room and ran for the nearest exit, just barely making it to a safe distance before the building exploded. She looked back at the sinking building, shielding her face from the dust and wondering whether some other terrorist had reached the place before she could. As the fireworks she left behind began to fire, she noticed a piece of paper sticking out of her pocket. Perhaps that girl put it there when she was pushing me...A large blue bomb exploded in the sky as she pulled out the paper and read the message, HA HA YOU OZZIE SUCKER.  
  
Duo fell over laughing again upon hearing the story recounted, and Quatre joined him on the floor. Trowa simply shook his head and sighed, wondering if he was the only sane person in the world.  
So, now that you've told the story AGAIN, Wufei growled, can we get down to business?  
I wanna watch the movie! Quatre shoved Heero aside, and along with Duo laughed at Relena's amateur video footage of Une running out of the building and stamping her feet after reading the note.  
Heero sighed, peeled Quatre and Duo away from his laptop, and closed the movie.  
Aww, that was funny! Duo complained. Why'd you have to kill it?  
Because this meeting isn't about watching the building blow up over and over. He shut down the laptop and addressed the rest of the group. I've contacted the judge of the international court in New York, and we're going to try to bring OZ to trial on grounds of an unfair monopoly.  
Wait a minute, Trowa interrupted. If they win, they can do the same thing to us. We're not exactly abiding by the law either.  
Duo rolled his eyes. This makes perfect sense, coming from a mafia man. C'mon, what could go wrong? Everybody hates OZ! There's no way we'd lose. Besides, we're supposed to take them down. How else could we do it?  
Wufei shrugged. We could follow my original plan and blow everything up.  
Four pairs of eyes glared at him.  
What?! It's just a suggestion.  
Heero continued, the court should issue a subpoena within a matter of weeks. All we have to do is sit back and wait.  
But what about that OZ spy that got away? Quatre wondered. She could be anywhere now. She could even be listening in!  
Just outside the door, Une, her hair falling out of the looped bun on her head, cackled softly and wrote in her memo pad. Indeed I could be anywhere, she muttered, and then left the unsuspecting CEOs to their work.


End file.
